In December 1686 she wrote to her sister wanting to know who had ‘taken such pains to give you so ill a character of Lady Churchill’. She insisted ‘I don’t say this that I take it at all ill … but I think myself obliged to vindicate my friend’. Firmly, she continued ‘I believe there is nobody in the world has better notions of religion than she has’, even if Sarah did ‘not keep such a bustle with religion’ as others who paraded their piety. Lady Churchill not only had impeccable ‘moral principles’, but possessed ‘a true sense of the doctrine of our Church, and abhors all the principles of the Church of Rome’. As for her husband, he was certainly ‘a very faithful servant to the King, and … the King is very kind to him’. Yet while he would doubtless obey his master ‘in all things that are consistent with religion … rather than change that, I dare say, he will lose all his places and all he has’.43 After receiving this spirited defence Mary did not raise the subject again, but her misgivings were not entirely allayed.
Despite the troubling political situation, at the outset of 1687 the Princess of Denmark had many reasons to be optimistic. Her father still lacked a male heir, so any damage effected by him was likely to be undone in the future. The waters of Tunbridge had once again had the desired result and she was several months into another pregnancy. Naturally she would have hoped that this time she would produce a son, but in the meantime she could take delight in her two daughters. The eldest one was now a toddler, ‘somewhat unhealthy, but most dearly beloved of the Princess’. On 10 January Anne wrote to Mary in Holland ‘to thank you for the plaything you sent my girl. It is the prettiest thing I ever saw, and too good for her yet, so I keep it locked up and only let her look on it when she comes to see me. She is the most delighted with it in the world and in her language gives you abundance of thanks. It might look ridiculous in me to tell you how much court she makes to your picture without being bid, and may sound like a lie, and therefore I won’t say anything more of her, but that I will make it my endeavour always to make her a very dutiful niece’.44
Then a series of catastrophes happened in quick succession. After being ‘indisposed … two days’, on 21 January Anne lost the child she was expecting. Her pregnancy had been far enough advanced for the foetus to be identified as a male child. One report believed the Princess’s miscarriage had been precipitated by ‘a jolt in her coach’, but Anne herself attributed it to her having unwisely performed an energetic French dance with ‘a great deal of jumping in it’. Physically she made a swift recovery, but within days a still worse tragedy befell her, for her younger daughter caught smallpox. On 31 January Anne wrote to Mary ‘in so great trouble for my poor child’ that she could not focus on recent worrying political developments. ‘I must go again to my poor child presently, for I am much more uneasy to be from her’, she told Mary distractedly. Despite Anne’s best efforts, the child could not be saved, and by the time she died on 2 February her elder sister Mary had caught the disease too. For a time the little girl appeared to be withstanding the illness, but on 8 February she too succumbed. When autopsies were carried out on the tiny corpses, it was found that little Mary had already been suffering from consumption and was unlikely to have lived long in any case, but Anne Sophia had been in sound health.45
Next, George caught smallpox, and seemed destined to follow his daughters to the grave. In the end he did not die, but the grim sequence of disasters that had befallen the couple prostrated them both. On 18 February 1687 Lady Rachel Russell reported, ‘The good Princess has taken her chastisement heavily; the first relief of that sorrow proceeded from the threatening of a greater, the Prince being ill. I never heard any relation more moving than that of seeing them together. Sometimes they wept, sometimes they mourned … then sat silent, hand in hand; he sick in his bed and she the carefullest nurse to him that can be imagined’. George’s health was permanently impaired by his illness and after this he suffered from severe asthma and congested lungs. In April an observer commented ‘I like not the unwholesomeness of his looks’ and many people prophesied that before long Anne would be a widow. The French ambassador noted that in that event, the King would want to marry her to a Catholic.46
Although Anne was spared this, the pain of her losses was overwhelming, despite such terrible bereavements being relatively common in the seventeenth century. The infant and child mortality rate was appallingly high for all social classes, with an estimated one in three children dying before their fifth birthdays. The fate suffered by so many of Anne’s siblings illustrates just how precarious life was at the time. It could be argued that because Anne had not breastfed either of her children, and had been absent from them for quite long periods of their short lives, she would not have formed an exceptionally close bond with her daughters, making their deaths easier to bear. To assume this, however, would be rash, for though the anguish suffered by well-born women at the loss of their children is generally undocumented, this cannot be taken to mean that it did not exist. In France a royal contemporary of Anne’s, Elisabeth Charlotte, Duchesse d’Orléans certainly felt distraught following the death of her eldest child in 1676, which left her feeling ‘as though her heart had been plucked from her body’.47
Anne’s father and stepmother did their best to console her, treating her with ‘great tenderness’. The French ambassador reported that Mary Beatrice ‘has been always with the Princess as if she was her daughter’, but in view of Anne’s dislike of the Queen, these attentions can only have been unwelcome. The Princess’s religion afforded her better comfort, for as a believer she was able to tell herself her children had departed to a better place. Excessive mourning for a loved one could be interpreted as questioning something divinely ordained. In 1681, when Frances Apsley had been upset by the death of her sister-in-law, Anne had enjoined ‘dear Semandra, be a little comforted, for it may displease God Almighty to see you not submit to his will, and who knows but that he may lay some greater affliction on you. Death is a debt we must all pay when God is pleased to take us out of this wicked world’. Yet though inconsolable sorrow could be condemned as impious or even sinful, it proved difficult for Anne to endure her tribulations with fortitude. More than one source describes her as becoming ‘ill by reason of grief’ after the deaths of her two daughters, and George’s slow recovery was partly attributed to his profound distress. Having been described as ‘much indisposed, as well as much afflicted’ immediately following the event, Anne was still reportedly ‘in a very weak and declining state’ in May 1687.48
There was little comfort to be derived from political events. In January 1687 Anne’s two uncles lost their jobs, and although they had done ‘a thousand little things’ to displease her, it was disturbing that the King rejected such loyal Anglicans. With the Hyde brothers out of the way, the power of Lord Sunderland was much increased. Anne already believed him to be ‘a great knave’, and as she saw him ‘working with all his might to bring in Popery’, her detestation of him grew apace.49
It was becoming evident that James was not content simply to exempt individuals from observing the Test Acts; he was determined that the measures must be repealed by Parliament. For Anne this was a terrifying prospect, for she did not doubt the King’s ‘desire to take off the Test and all other laws against [the Catholics] is only a pretence to bring in Popery’. In early 1687 James started to summon Members of Parliament and peers for individual talks, asking them to pledge themselves to support the repeal of the Test Acts when Parliament next met. Many of those approached refused to commit themselves, whereupon they were dismissed from positions held at court, or in the administration and army. To one observer it appeared that ‘every post brought fresh news of gentlemen’s losing their employments both civil and military’, and another fervent Anglican pronounced ‘This was a time of great trial’.50
Disappointed by the many rebuffs he had received, James announced that Parliament would not reassemble until November. In the meantime, however, he continued to do all he could to ensure that when it d
id meet, it would be an amenable body. As yet Lord Churchill had not been called upon to indicate where he stood with regard to the Test Acts, but in his wife’s view it was obvious that ‘everybody sooner or later must be ruined, who would not become a Roman Catholic’. Anne too was despondent, telling her sister in March, ‘I believe in a little while no Protestant will be able to live here’.51
In early March 1687 Anne went to her father to ask permission to visit her sister in Holland in the summer, while George would be in Denmark seeing his family. At first James had no objection, but subsequently the King’s advisers told him that a meeting between the two sisters ‘could only serve to bring them closer together and to strengthen them in their attachment to the Protestant religion’.52 Accordingly James withdrew permission for Anne to go overseas.
Furious at being denied her wish, the Princess tried hard to change her father’s mind, but he refused to lift his veto. However, he could not prevent Anne from communicating secretly with her sister. Her correspondence with Mary became increasingly controversial and indiscreet, and was transmitted through unofficial channels. ‘Since I am not to see my dear sister I think myself obliged to tell you the truth of everything this way’, she told Mary. She blamed Sunderland – ‘the subtillest workingest villain that is on the face of the earth’ – not just for the King’s reversal of his initial decision, but for ‘going on so fiercely for the interests of the Papists’. Though Anne had taken the precaution of entrusting her letter to a reliable messenger, she begged Mary not to disclose a word of its contents to anyone apart from her husband. Quite apart from the fact that the King had explicitly instructed her not to reveal that he had forbidden her to visit Mary, the Princess was guiltily conscious that ‘it is all treason I have spoke’.53
Anne took care to be present when Anglican divines made sermons intended to emphasise the danger of Popish encroachments, ‘openly bearing witness to her zeal for the Protestant religion’ by going ‘incognito to individual churches to listen to the most popular and fashionable preachers’.54 Having demonstrated her solidarity for her embattled faith, she withdrew to Richmond. George’s need to convalesce was used as a pretext for her spending several weeks there, but really she was signalling her estrangement from the court.
Although apparently living a quiet life at Richmond, the Princess was not cut off from the opposition movement that was gradually forming against the King. In February 1687 William of Orange had sent a diplomat named Dykvelt to England as his ‘ambassador extraordinary’, with orders to form links with those who opposed the repeal of the Test Acts. He brought with him a letter to Anne from William and Mary, but even after receiving this, the Princess thought it imprudent to meet with Dykvelt. On 13 March she explained to Mary that she had been fearful Lord Sunderland would hear about the meeting and besides, ‘I am not used to speak to people about business’. Instead she sent Lord Churchill to see the envoy. Two months later Churchill gave Dykvelt a letter to take back to Holland, stating that the Princess of Denmark ‘was resolved, by the assistance of God, to suffer all extremities, even to death itself, rather than be brought to change her religion’.55
On 12 February 1687 King James had issued a Declaration of Indulgence to Tender Consciences in Scotland, suspending operation of the Test Act there. On 4 April he issued a similar Declaration for England. In this he stated that since he believed that ‘conscience ought not to be constrained’ he had decided to grant ‘free exercise of their religion’ not just to Catholics but also to Protestant nonconformists. The measure nullified the requirement that anyone employed in a court or government office, or other place of trust, should have to take an oath disavowing transubstantiation. For the moment this was done solely on the King’s authority, although the Declaration blandly concluded that James had ‘no doubt of the concurrence of our two houses of Parliament when we shall think it convenient for them to meet’.56
The Declaration of Indulgence marked a change of direction on the King’s part. Until now he had hoped that he could abolish laws harmful to Catholics with the cooperation of Anglican Members of Parliament, but the disappointing outcome to James’s private interviews had indicated that this was unrealistic. Accordingly the King’s strategy was to form an alliance with the dissenters, who were far more numerous than Catholics. In the first eighteen months of the reign, the laws against Protestant nonconformists had been rigorously enforced, but James now set out to enlist their support. Recognising this as an astute change of tactics on his father-in-law’s part, William sought to convince the dissenters to be patient until Mary ascended the throne, for then they would be treated equitably without incurring the odium of coupling themselves with Catholics.
As a member of the Calvinist Dutch Reformed Church, sympathy for English dissenters came naturally to William, and since her marriage Mary too had come to believe that the Anglican clergy were unnecessarily harsh to dissenters. Anne’s viewpoint was different. It is true that the Declaration of Indulgence appalled her primarily because she believed that it would enable Catholics to become dominant within the state. She told Mary, ‘In taking away the Test and Penal laws, they take away our religion; and if that be done, farewell to all happiness: for when once the Papists have everything in their hands, all we poor Protestants have but dismal times to hope for’. In addition, however, she considered the Declaration pernicious because of its concessions to nonconformists. Unaware that her sister was not wholly of her mind on this issue, she told her, ‘It is a melancholy prospect that all we of the Church of England have; all the sectaries may now do what they please. Every one has the free exercise of their religion, on purpose no doubt to ruin us’.57
The King’s treatment of the universities of Oxford and Cambridge exacerbated fears that he was not merely trying to secure toleration for Catholics, but wanted all power to be concentrated in Catholic hands. The two universities were the principal educational establishments for Anglican clergymen and hence any attack on their rights ‘struck at the root of the Protestant Church’. The richest college in Oxford, Magdalen, was ordered to install a crypto-Catholic as its President. When the College Fellows declined, they were called before the Ecclesiastical Commission and their Vice President and another Fellow were suspended. Cambridge received similar treatment. After the Vice Chancellor of Cambridge had been removed from office for refusing to confer a degree on a Benedictine monk, a worried Anne wrote to Mary, ‘By this one may easily guess what one is to hope for henceforward, since the priests have so much power with the King as to make him do things so directly against the laws of the land’.58
In late April Anne abandoned her earlier caution and had an interview with Dykvelt. She also continued to write regularly to Mary. For the sake of appearances she still occasionally sent letters using the official postal service, but because of the danger of interception these were trifling in content. One such communication was full of inane information about court etiquette and Anne’s routine at Richmond. After apologising for her untidy writing, which she attributed to being distracted by ‘a very pretty talking child’ of Lady Churchill’s, the Princess added unctuously, ‘Tomorrow the King and Queen does me the honour to dine here’.59
The letters Anne sent secretly to Holland ‘by sure hands’ were very different in tone. As well as making plain her views on political matters, the Princess took this opportunity to express violent animosity towards the Sunderlands. The pen portrait Anne drew of the Countess was devastating in its malice, describing her as ‘a flattering, dissembling, false woman … [who] cares not at what rate she lives, but never pays anybody. She will cheat, though it be for a little’. Anne continued, ‘To hear her talk you would think she was a very good Protestant’, when in fact ‘she has no religion’. The Princess was sure Lady Sunderland took lovers, despite making ‘such a clatter with her devotions that it really turns one’s stomach’.60
Next, Anne targeted her venom on Queen Mary Beatrice. Giving full rein to the virulence of her descriptive powers,
she proved remarkably successful in poisoning her sister’s mind against their stepmother. In May 1687 she wrote,
The Queen, you must know, is of a very proud, haughty humour … though she pretends to hate all form and ceremony … She declares always that she loves sincerity and hates flattery, but when the grossest flattery in the world is said to her face, she seems extremely well pleased with it. It really is enough to turn one’s stomach.
Anne insisted that her views were widely shared, and that Mary Beatrice ‘is the most hated in the world of all sorts of people; for everybody believes that she pressed the King to be more violent than he would be of himself … for she is a very great bigot in her way’. Continuing with her remorseless character assassination, Anne declared ‘one may see … she hates all Protestants’, and that it was ‘a sad and very uneasy thing to be forced to live civilly and as it were freely with a woman that one knows hates one’. She went on, ‘She pretends to have a great deal of kindness to me, but I doubt it is not real, for I never see proofs of it’. Then, having lambasted Mary Beatrice for her lack of sincerity, she proclaimed that she herself would take great care to dissemble her feelings for her stepmother. ‘I am resolved always to … make my court very much to her, that she may not have any just cause against me’ she told Mary, apparently unaware of any contradiction. Though Anne’s hatred for her stepmother was so fierce, she still made excuses for her father, whom she depicted as led astray by malevolent influences.61
Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion Page 11
